Alex Couldn't Pretend
by Lightning And Blossoms
Summary: "I realised two things. I couldn't continue running up stairs to get to the office... Even if I was willing to fight some more guards. I'm here for a message. In the form of symbolism, not murder. I wont lay a finger on Jones." Alex Rider didn't cope highly well after Scorpia Rising, and he was ready to show one person why. Paranoid about rating- may be a two/three shot.


_**Warning: this will be a triggering chapter. Alex is dark and depressed mentions of self harm, death, abandonment, intense emotions and thoughts... I don't want to be the cause of anybody feeling not good, so take care. **_

_**Oh, and it's based after Scorpia Rising.**_

_"I'm sorry you believed them."_

_"Oh, don't feel sorry for me," I vaguely laughed._

_There was silence as he waited for me to explain myself. He was waiting for me to explain why my best friend shouldn't feel sorry for little poor old me. _

_An explanation to what happened- and why- and what is going to happen- and what I _didn't_ do._

_ And why._

_Explanations mean expectations, and I wasn't ready to face that dark concept yet._

_"Al..."_

_I reached out for his shoulder, but he stepped back hesitantly._

_I opened my mouth to say, 'well, I'm sorry- because I know they always leave.' But this was _Tom_. Something in whatever life I had left, prevented me from saying that. I couldn't hurt Tom like that- Tom intends well._

_"Seems like there's a lot of 'sorrys' felt in this place tonight," I stated almost nonchalantly, gazing away to the lights of the real world surrounding us._

_That was the last thing I told Tom._

_He was the one who didn't give up that night._

I felt the difference I didn't feel. But I didn't care- that's alright. _Did I die? When did that happen. Does the dictionary say to die you need to die physically and completely?_

No matter, I don't care who I am anymore.

I had something I was still holding onto. I had something some life inside of me was still holding onto- hope. A dream. I didn't tell anybody anything, but no, I wasn't quite over life. I felt so much in my veins, I was _ready_ for anything. For a fight?

Do we have to fight for peace?

Peace of mind- that was a _dream_.

One mind where I didn't need to run forever from my thoughts. One where I could _sleep_ and one where I didn't need to feel like I was numb _and_ drowning.

No matter, I don't care who I am any more. Because I _have hope_.

I will fight, I will run. I will run to the bank, I will destruct their pathetic perception.

I don't _care_ the reasons Jones had to sending me to missions. I _don't_ care... I _understand _now. I understand why I had to give that life- _that life of peace_- I'll do it again to _save_ the world... If it wasn't for her, then maybe I'd continue with purpose in _that old life._

But I'm _angry_, because she's gone.

I can't _pretend_ she's _sleeping_, I can't be in denial. It's so fresh- it's so in my face, it's so raw, torturous. I can't not scream and I can't scream at the same time, because I don't know why I can't pretend.

No matter, I don't care who I am anymore, so I'll go and I'll show the bank _what happens_ when people _lose_ the people they love: destruction.

People have _lives_. She wasn't ready to go- _so much to give..._

_For a fight? Do we have to fight for peace?_

I was laughing when I went into the bank. Such a deep laugh that I had to doubt whether I was _actually_ broken.

The laughter felt so _real _thatI had to lean against the marble desk of the reception. When the receptionist walked in front of me- clearly annoyed like he had better _time_ and something else to do- it only made me laugh harder. Don't try and fool _me_: _I know everything_ in these walls _that_ _I_ _need to know._

The expression he held when I told him I had a meeting with _Jones_ was priceless and almost sobered me up.

So, instead, I grabbed the laptop on his desk and smashed it on the ground with impact.

The laughter mixed in with tears, and in my slow and fast pace of scenery I had no idea to whether I was crying _or_ laughing. They both seemed so alike, I didn't care.

The shreds of glass and technology seemed a little sad to me, shattered on the ground. But the anger in the receptionist's face expressed to me that I shocked him.

_How exactly did I manage doing that?_

_Why?_

We were alone.

Arriving from somewhere, some security guard grabbed my arm. I elbowed and hurt him.

I didn't mean to- I'm not here for war. I'm here for a message. I have a message to deliver to only one person, and that message _isn't_ in the form of murder.

_I don't want to be the cause of some other family's grief. Or that stupid cat of Jones._

I ran up the stairs of the bank.

_"I'm sorry you believed them," Tom Harris said._

His face, the disappointment, the need for control, something- I gave up on him- he knows _nothing_ now... But he wasn't the one who stopped talking, that's the problem.

That was the problem.

The stairs didnt exist in my field of view any more, and I didn't fall- I was sprinting, and I was crying and I was laughing.

_I didn't even _hug_ him._

_"Al..." _My best friend. He deserved something. He deserved peace- and I left him to vend for himself... He didn't need that by somebody who was supposed to not do that to him.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" The guard was in shock and nursing himself.

I slammed my shoulder into a solid wall. There must've been some adrenaline in me because I hardly noticed and it didn't _hurt_.

Who was I kidding? No matter what I destroy in Jone's room- it won't bring Tom or Jack back. She's dead, I can't get rid of that, I can't deny that- it's so raw- It's so fresh- it's so in my face, _it's so raw, it's so torturous I can't not scream and I can't scream at the same time- and it matters-_ and I can't not care- but something in me died when she did-

Tom helped- my best friend- whose not dead- I don't have the guts to beg for him. He's my best friend.

_He was my best friend._

_"I'm sorry you believed them."_

Then: I realised two things- the first was that I couldn't continue running up stairs to get to the office... Even if I was willing to fight some more guards.

_Not murder. _

_I have a message. _

_I'm here for a fucking message._

_In the form of symbolism, not murder. I wont lay a finger on Jones. _

The second realisation- was that I was the one who _needed_ Tom. I was the one who also needed a hug. I needed _something. I need something_. I need him to just _help_ me- but I can't help me, to get him to help me.

So I'll be a broken coward fighting for a message of peace.

Somebody in this irrational system needs to understand what it means to _have a life_. A life with lungs that _breathe_, and a body that can _shake_ with joy of laughing and _love_. A life that deserves respect. Respect- even in this _business_.

That's my message.

_Peace._

_It's so fresh- it's so in my face, it's so raw, it's so torturous. I can't not scream and I can't scream at the same time, because I don't know why I can't pretend._

I almost banged my head into the elevator- but that only made me laugh harder _again_. I didn't think twice about scratching into my wrist, in my dismantled thoughts. My nails are short for being a male, so I didn't even notice.

I pushed myself into the elevator when it dinged.

There was a male in there. I could see him walking out, confused.

He looked at me strangely- about to say something when I clicked the special number in the lift and winked at him.

_A/N: I don't know if this will be chaptered or not. But I know what is happening in the next chapter. This story came up randomly: it wasn't planned or well thought about- I just had some emotions I needed to vent out and I sort of missed Alex Rider, cause I hadn't written any of his fics in a little while._


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